Dying Changes Nothing
by JnnLuvsU
Summary: Set a year after "Dying Changes Everything." WARNING: Major Character Death. Chapter 3: The funeral The fellows see Wilson.
1. Chapter 1

"Dying Changes Nothing"  
by: JnnLuvsU  
Summary: Wilson gets a visitor. Set a year after "Dying Changes Everything".  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.  
Author's Notes: Wilson really pissed me off. Cause while they only show Wilson enabling House, I'm sure there were plenty of times when the tables were turned and House was enabling Wilson. A lot of people said they understood where Wilson was coming from, but I don't. Sure, you're mad. But to tell your best friend that you don't think you were ever friends is just harsh.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Wilson had been at the new job for almost a year when the man showed up in his office. Wilson waved him in, "Can I help you?"

"My name is Brian Griner. I'm a lawyer. I represent Dr. Gregory House," the strange man said.

Wilson froze, turning around, "When you say that you represent House, you don't mean..." he trailed off, House couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

Griner gave Wilson a sympathetic smile, "Greg passed four days ago," he informed the other man.

Wilson sank onto the couch in the room, "How?" he whispered, putting his head in his hands.

"Greg stopped taking his pain pills eight months ago. He was placed in a medically induced coma a few months ago to help manage the pain. His medical proxy attempted a very dangerous surgery when it was assured Greg would never wake up. It wasn't successful. Greg died on the table," Griner explained.

Wilson's shoulders began to shake as tears filled his eyes, "He stopped taking his pills? Why? And why didn't they call me?"

Griner sighed, "I have no idea, Dr. Wilson. Greg was never very forthcoming with me. He made his will five years ago. It's very straightforward. He's never changed it. About a year ago, he made a last wish."

Wilson stared at him, "I don't understand."

Griner smiled, "He left nearly everything to you, Dr. Wilson."

Wilson's eyes widened, "What?" he asked faintly.

Griner pulled the document out of the bag, "Considering how much our firm charges for services, Greg was a very easy client. He didn't divide his assets among a lot of different people. He left a portion of the money to the hospital, but everything else? He left it to you. The furniture, the money, some stocks, a motorcycle."

Wilson stared at Griner in horror. "He wouldn't have wanted me to have anything. He just never got around to changing it."

Griner stood. "It comes to just over 500,000 total, Dr. Wilson. He had time to change it. He wanted you to have it. How do I know this? Because he came into my office about a year ago. And gave me this." He handed Wilson an envelope. "And told me to tell you it would answer all of your questions."

Wilson took the envelope, fearing what was inside it. He hadn't seen House since he'd walked out on the other man almost a year ago. House couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible.

Griner nodded, "If there is anything you want to keep from the apartment, you need to let me know soon. Otherwise, everything will be sold and you will receive a check in a few months." He handed Wilson his card.

Wilson was in shock, but thought he'd managed to at least give Griner something of an answer. He waited for the other man to leave before returning his attention to the envelope in his hand. Griner had said House had said this would answer all of his questions.

He had a lot. Why would House leave him anything? Why would he stop taking his pills? Why would he not call Wilson? And how did he know he was going to die? Because Wilson knew House, and knew there was no way House would visit a lawyer if death wasn't in his near future. And less than four months after dropping off this letter, House had signed his death warrant by stopping the pain management. He was well aware that the only reason House had made a will in the first place was right after the infarction had occurred. So, why? And how? Wilson didn't see how this letter was going to answer all of his questions.

He sighed, steeling his nerve and opening the envelope. A single sheet of paper was inside. Wilson slowly unfolded it. In the center of the page was a single line written in handwriting Wilson knew as well as his own, and

Wilson felt the tears fall from his eyes as he read it.

_"Because you were the only one I ever loved."_

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
_Love it? Hate it? Review!!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. None of them.

A/N: I know I said this was a oneshot, but I couldn't help myself. This is the continuation. Wilson faces Cuddy.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Wilson walked into Princeton-Plainsborough Teaching Hospital, headed straight for Cuddy's office. He stormed in without bothering to knock. "Why wasn't I called?" he demanded.

Cuddy looked at him. She looked tired and had red-rimmed eyes, but didn't seem surprised to see him, "What can I do for you, Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson closed the door, "Why wasn't I called?" he repeated, impatience in his voice.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, "Why would we call you?" She was confused. She stood, gathering papers, "I was under the impression you made it very clear that you never wanted to see him again last year."

Wilson visibly slumped, "But to have a _lawyer_ tell me." He held up the letter, "Bring me this letter..." He rubbed his eyes, trying to keep the tears in.

Cuddy sighed, "Truth be told, Dr. Wilson, if I had any inclination you wanted to know, I would have called you. In all honesty, it did cross my mind, but..."

Wilson looked at her, "But?" he prompted.

Cuddy gave him a cold smile, "But I didn't."

Wilson knew he had no right to get angry at her. He ran a hand through his hair, his breath hitching, "Did he suffer?" He didn't know why he wanted to know the answer to this question, but he had to know.

Cuddy's face softened fractionally, "Yes, James," she whispered. "He suffered." She looked down at her desk, "When House stopped taking his pain medication, he still refused to let us take his leg. After four months of agonizing pain, he elected to be put into a medically induced coma." He looked at him, "He gave up."

Wilson brushed tears away from his eyes, "Why? Why did he stop taking his pills? Why did he want to die?" He was angry.

Cuddy continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Last month, he slipped into a real coma. Last week, I, as his medical proxy, elected to try and repair some of the muscle damage. Pretty much the same thing we did last time, but on a much higher level. He would have lost most use of his leg, but this was short of him losing his leg." She looked up at him, "His heart was too weak, he died on the table." She brushed a tear away.

Wilson took deep breaths, "Why?" The anger was gone; now he was just resigned.

Cuddy glared at him, "Because his best friend abandoned him." She walked to him, "He asked for you, you know. Begged everyday."

Wilson paled, "Then why wasn't I called?"

Cuddy walked to him, her papers in her hand. "We did call. Three times. You never answered. Left messages. You never called. We told him you didn't leave a forwarding number. I don't think he believed us."

Wilson looked down, tears falling down his cheeks, "Why did he leave me everything, Lisa?" he asked softly.

Cuddy gave him a small smile, "You were always the only one that really mattered." She walked to the door, "We're using the money he left the hospital for the diagnostics department." She opened the door, and then turned around. "The funeral's tomorrow." She dug a piece of paper out of her stack. "Here's the information. If you want."

Wilson took it and nodded. "I'll come."

Cuddy nodded, "Just stay away from his fellows. New _or _old."

Wilson was confused, "Why?"

Cuddy shrugged, "They blame you," she stated simply.

Wilson looked down, "And you?"

Cuddy gave him a bitter smile, "I blame you both." She paused, "It was good to see you, Dr. Wilson. If you'll excuse me." She left the room.

Wilson nodded, "Thank you, Lisa," he whispered to the empty room.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
Like it? Hate it? Let Me Know!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: Wilson goes to the funeral. The fellows are _not_ happy to see him.

A/N: Okay, I'm still here. A lot of people asked for a scene where Wilson get's what he deserves. So here you go. Also, since I started this before Birthmarks, House's dad is still alive. It just felt mean to leave poor Blythe House all alone.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Wilson approached the funeral home slowly, almost afraid of his reception. Cuddy had told him he probably wouldn't be welcome, but he couldn't bring himself to stay away. He owed it to House. He slipped into the funeral home a few minutes late and snuck into the last row. He could see House's parents sitting up front. Blythe was crying softly while John sat ramrod straight.

Cuddy was behind them, staring off into space. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron sat next to her. Foreman was looking worriedly at Cuddy while Cameron leaned on Chase, tears flowing down her face.

Kutner sat on the other side of the room, with a young woman Wilson assumed was his girlfriend. Taub and his wife sat next to Kutner. Wilson was surprised to see Thirteen in the company of a young woman, sitting behind Taub. Others from the hospital were there; House may not have been well-liked, but he was well-respected.

Wilson's eyes flowed over everyone else, his eyes freezing on the man sitting a few rows ahead of him. Detective Tritter had come to House's funeral? Probably come to make sure the other man was really dead. Still, he came? House really could command respect. Even from those who hated him.

The ceremony went on, but Wilson ignored it, focusing on the casket. He couldn't believe that it held the best friend he'd ever had. He'd screwed up, and it had cost House his life. The casket was open, and Wilson dreaded walking up there to pay his respects. He couldn't see the face of the man he'd spent the better part of his life with, but it was there when he closed his eyes. And for the life of him, House could only recall the last time he'd seen his best friend. When he'd walked out on him in his office.

He knew there must have been smiles at some point, but all he could see was the hurt and disappointment on House's face as he'd walked away. He'd give anything to be able to remember House's smile.

It wasn't until the pallbearers stood to carry out the casket that he was noticed. Foreman and Chase stood up, along with John, Kutner, and Taub. Wilson watched in silence as a few more men stood up as well. Chase caught sight of him and froze, staring at him.

Foreman followed his gaze first before shaking his head in disgust and leading Chase back to the casket. Taub and Kutner turned to see what they were looking at and spotted him as well. They merely stared for a moment before heading back to the casket.

Wilson hung his head in shame. He wasn't welcome here. He'd skip the graveyard service. As they carried the casket out, Blythe turned to talk to Cuddy and spotted him in the back. She smiled, standing and walking to him. She, at least, seemed happy to see him. "James," she whispered, hugging him, "It's so good to see you."

Wilson hugged her back, "I'm so sorry, Blythe."

Blythe's smile remained frozen in place, "I don't blame you, James. It was about time you did something for you. He died on his terms. I think he would have liked that."

Wilson didn't know what to say, "If there's anything I can..."

"You're coming to the grave site, yes?" She pulled away. "I'll see you there. She allowed Cuddy to lead her out of the room. Cuddy gave him a nod as they passed.

Wilson sighed, now he would have to go. Resigning himself to his fate, he left the funeral home and headed for his car.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The graveyard service was nice and simple. Wilson kept himself on the edges of the crowd, not venturing too close. While Blythe was happy to see him, nearly everyone else was either sending him dirty looks or looking at him in confusion. He didn't know which was worse: that they didn't want him here or that they couldn't understand why he'd come.

When the service was over, the mourners began to mingle. Wilson tried to sneak away, but was stopped by Chase. "Hello, Wilson," he greeted softly.

Wilson sighed, "Chase."

"You've got some nerve, showing up here." Chase was angry. "Couldn't bring yourself to come to the hospital when it mattered, could you?"

Wilson looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I'm here at House's mother's request. I'm leaving now."

Chase nodded, "Walking away is what you're good at, isn't it?"

"Please. He was a drug addict who pushed everyone away. Why are you surprised that he pushed too far? He always had to push things until they broke." Wilson knew it was his fault, but he'd be damned if he let someone else tell him that.

Chase's eyes narrowed, "You blamed him for Amber's death. And you couldn't handle it. He begged for you."

Before Wilson could defend himself; before he'd even registered it was coming, Chase's fist connected with his lip. Wilson stumbled back, his hand automatically going to his mouth, unsurprised to taste blood.

Foreman and Taub grabbed Chase's arms. Foreman turned to Wilson, "I suggest you leave, Wilson."

Wilson nodded, "Leaving now," he assured. Still fingering his busted lip, he left the graveyard. The pain in his lip was expected; the tears falling down his cheeks weren't.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
Like it? Review!


End file.
